The Iron Witch

by Karen Mahoney

  “Don’t get too excited. I used to know. I’m not sure any more, but it might be worth a try.” Xan’s eyes clouded for a moment, as if trying to capture a memory. “When I was younger—after I was first adopted—I had a lot of dreams. Dreams about the wood elves and what they did to me. It was all just a confused mess. My adoptive parents had me seeing a child psychologist by this time, and I was encouraged to think of the dreams as symbolic. Not actual events.”

  Donna touched his arm. “But they were. Real, I mean.”

  “Yeah. And one of the recurring dreams is of me running out of the Ironwood, following a path I’d seen the elves walk many times before while they held me captive.”

  “One of the Old Paths,” Donna breathed, trying to control her mounting excitement. She was surprised to find her thoughts wandering toward her aunt and the Order. If they knew how to get into the Elflands, it could mean an end to the standoff that had been in place for so many years. The alchemists could drive the wood elves out once and for all.

  Xan’s lips thinned. “I can see what you’re thinking, but I’m really not sure my memory is reliable. And you must know that any sort of door to any faery realm, even a temporary home here in our world, will be protected. The doors move, too, once they’re discovered. One door could be in a hundred different places, depending on the day. We just have to hope that the one I know of is still there—it could be, if it’s been untouched for the past decade or so.”

  Donna nodded. “It’s okay; I’m not planning on riding into battle against the wood elves quite yet. I just want to find Navin. And Maker.”

  “If they’ve got him as well.”

  “I’m certain of it.” And she was. “Nav’s my best friend, Xan. I just can’t imagine a day going by where I don’t speak to him. I have to find him. It’s selfish of me, I know that.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, no, I understand. I lost a friend like that. Our friendship was the only reason I know anything concrete about my past.” Xan swallowed. “It just happened last year.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Donna laid a hand on his arm, feeling sadness burning in the center of her chest.

  He shook off her hand, his jaw tightening as he stared straight ahead. “I couldn’t change things, and I should have been able to.”

  She didn’t know what to do. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, feeling miserable and useless.

  Xan shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his shoulders slumped. Donna could only guess at how much this must be costing him, and she wondered at his willingness to come back into contact with the dark elves. She knew it was because of her—he was doing it for her—but she didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. She bit her lip, thinking she should apologize again.

  “Forget it,” he said, his voice unbearably grim. “I guess we’re heading into the Ironwood.”

  They took the most direct route out of the city and parked just a short walk from the dark green Ironwood. It was lunchtime, and the late autumn sun had climbed high above them; it warmed Donna’s face despite the chill in the air. She closed her eyes for a delicious moment.

  “Come on, I don’t think you’re going to catch much of a tan out here.” Xan raised a golden eyebrow.

  She shrugged. “I know that. It’s just so beautiful. I love autumn and winter—I always have. Don’t you think there’s something magnificent about it?”

  “It’s magnificently cold, is what it is. Let’s get moving.” He turned and strode toward the woodland.

  Donna sighed and ran a few steps to catch up.

  The low fence surrounding the trees was old and rotten in places, as though there hadn’t been any maintenance in a long time. Just outside of it was a row of sturdy iron streetlights encircling the whole woodland like sentries—a steel fortification designed to create a prison of what remained of the Elflands.

  Donna followed Xan through the gateway marking the entrance, glancing back at the traffic passing by on the main road. It felt a little bit like walking out of one world and into another. The leaf and needle strewn pathway opened up ahead of them, under a varied canopy of wintering branches and evergreens.

  It was much quieter in here. The sounds of the road were muffled behind the tree trunks, and all of a sudden seemed very far away. Donna took a deep breath, momentarily

  forgetting what they were supposed to be doing and just enjoying the freshness and fragrant smells of the woods. She was soon snapped back to reality.

  “We have to go further in,” Xan said. “I’ll know it if we get near the Old Path.”

  She touched his arm. “Wait a second. How will you know?”

  “I honestly have no idea. It’s like there’s something in my chest, sort of tugging me toward it. I can’t explain it any better than that.”

  “Like a magnet?”

  “Yeah, something like that.” Xan shook his head, clearly frustrated and not liking the fact that he had to rely on something out of his control.

  They walked in silence for a while. Donna listened to the sounds of the wildlife, wondering how the place that featured so strongly in her nightmares could seem almost beautiful now that she was actually in it again. It had been ten long years since she’d set foot beneath these trees. She repressed a shiver and pulled her thin jacket more tightly around her.

  She wished that Xan would hold her hand like he had last night, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  Leaves and branches crackled underfoot. It grew darker as they walked farther and deeper along the straight path. Despite the fall of leaves, the evergreens were plenty big enough to blot out the blue sky. The sun could only be seen in slivers of yellow light falling briefly between the trees before disappearing, only to reappear for a moment in another shadowed gap.

  Donna slowed her pace and frowned. “Look, the path splits off here. Which way do we go?”

  Xan walked to the miniature crossroads, resting his hand on the trunk of an old oak and closing his eyes. Donna watched him, trying not to think about how his hair fell onto his forehead and made him look younger than his nineteen years. She suddenly thought of Navin and what might be happening to him, but she tried not to be impatient. She refused to believe Navin was anything other than alive and well—they just had to find him, and then everything would be all right.

  Xan opened his eyes and nodded toward the right-hand pathway. “This way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He shrugged. “Not really, but it’s the best we’ve got.” He glanced at her. “Don’t you remember any of this?”

  “No, I told you, I hardly remember anything.” Donna swallowed as she thought of her father. “My dreams show me a clearing, every single time, but I don’t know if it’s real or imagined.”

  He took her hand in his. Her glove sitting in his large hand made her feel warm and safe. “Maybe we’ll find out,” he said.

  Trying to smile, Donna gently squeezed his fingers, ignoring the memory of what she’d done to Melanie earlier. Sometimes the strength in her hands scared her, but it seemed that she only did the really crazy-powerful stuff when her emotions and adrenaline were running high.

  Xan looked into her eyes. “Donna, I’m so glad I found you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “I found you, don’t forget.”

  “I’m glad you could look beyond how stupid I acted that night up on the roof. I behaved like an idiot.”

  “No you didn’t.” Well, she thought, maybe a little. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  “I did, and we both know it. I was showing off—hiding behind some kind of mysterious face that isn’t really me at all.” He grinned. “Not all the time, anyway.”

  They followed the path to the right, walking in silence again. Donna found her thoughts straying to Quentin’s grandfather clock. Maybe she could get another look at it tomorrow, when she went back to her classes with Alma.

  And then she stopped walking, brought u
p short by Xan, who had paused in front of her. He was staring off into the undergrowth on the left of the pathway, his eyes taking on a haunted look that left her breathless with fear.

  “Xan, what is it?” She stepped forward, wondering whether she should touch him or not. He seemed turned to stone, his jaw clenching and his usually golden skin pale in the dim light slipping through the trees.

  “We’re here.”

  Donna looked around, wondering how on earth he could tell. All the trees looked the same to her, although the undergrowth seemed to crowd closer and there was less light here. Xan was staring into the depths of the trees, toward a clump of long-leafed bushes. There didn’t appear to be anything unusual about it to Donna.

  At least, not to start with. But when her hands started to throb and the familiar ache started up in her wrists and arms, she began to suspect that they were in the right place after all.

  Xan cleared his throat. “We need to go through there.” He reached for her hand again and she gratefully clasped it in her own. “Donna, are you sure you want to do this?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely.” Her stomach tightened, but she knew she had no choice. She had to go after Navin.

  Xan stepped off the path, taking her with him. They began to work their way through the tangled undergrowth, ducking beneath branches and vines that reached out for them and brushed their faces. Donna tried to ignore the steady ache in her hands, hanging onto Xan and concentrating on making sure she didn’t get a stray branch in her eye.

  Pushing his way between two towering, dark green bushes, Xan bent the brambles out of Donna’s way so she could duck underneath his arm and slip through the gap. The eerie silence made her heart beat so loudly she wondered if he could hear it.

  And then, on the other side of the spiteful branches, Donna found herself standing in a tiny clearing. Not the clearing of her dreams—no, this one provided barely enough space for the two of them to stand, together, on the dead leaves that littered the ground. Tree trunks pressed in all sides, the moss-covered bark smelling musty and vaguely rotten.

  Even without her history with the alchemists, Donna would have known she was in a magical place—and it wasn’t a benign sort of magic, either. There was an oppressive feel that didn’t just come from the crowded trees. The air was full of a dull heaviness that weighed on her shoulders and made it difficult to breathe properly. She glanced at Xan to see if he felt it too.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t you feel that?”

  “We’re approaching the doorway—the elves’ power is at its strongest here. That’s probably what you’re picking up on.”

  “But you don’t feel that … weight on you?”

  “I have fey blood, don’t forget. I can feel a sort of energy—a buzz all around me—but it doesn’t feel all that bad.”

  Donna felt a shiver run through her. Xan’s eyes seemed greener than ever; they burned with a deep emerald fire, confirming that he wasn’t fully human. She took a deep breath. “So, what now?”

  “This is it.” His voice was steady—all the uncertainty he had earlier seemed to have left him. Clearly he was being led by something other than dream or memory. A knowledge that ran bone-deep guided them both, now.

  “But … there’s nothing here.” Donna looked around, wondering if she’d missed something.

  “Not yet,” replied Xan. He crouched down on the ground and ran his hands over the dark earth. He grabbed a handful of dirt and leaves and a few twigs, then stood and faced her once more. “Put your hand on mine so that you’re touching this stuff.”

  Donna did as she was told. “What are you doing?”

  “Opening the door.” Xan closed his eyes for a moment. Donna was almost certain she could see a glow escaping from beneath his lids, but he re-opened his eyes before she could be sure. “I was lucky enough to find someone, eventually—a mentor who guided me through the basics of this stuff, taught me about my heritage.”

  “I’d like to hear about him someday.”

  “Her,” replied Xan. “She was a good friend.”

  Donna determinedly ignored the stab of jealousy she felt. Now wasn’t the time to act like a child. Xan’s mentor being female didn’t mean anything.

  His eyes softened as he watched her. “She’s the friend who died last year.”

  Oh. Way to feel like a totally heartless bitch. “Xan, I—”

  He shook his head. “Not now,” he said. “I need to focus.”

  And then Donna forgot about everything. Her eyes widened as she watched Xan become more ethereal, less solid. There was a translucent quality to his golden skin, and she felt a rush of heat against her face. The blast of hot air seemed to be coming from … Xan. So here was the guy who couldn’t do fey magic, apart from “pretty tricks.” Riiight.

  He spoke. “We seek the Old Path and approach the door. I hold earth in my hand and invoke the power in my blood—the blood of my ancestors. I ask to be granted entrance to this dark place. We come in peace. Open!”

  Donna jumped as he shouted the last word, but she kept her grip on the bundle of dirt and leaves that they held. The air in front of her seemed to shimmer and thicken, and for a moment darkness folded itself around her. It was a peculiar kind of blackness, with a texture all its own. The heavy scent of decay filled her nostrils, sweet and cloying as molasses.

  Then the dim light returned, and between the close-packed tree trunks there appeared a new pathway, seeming almost like a fairy-tale track leading down what looked like a tree-lined cavern. The branches bent overhead in a leafy canopy—a living tunnel.

  Donna turned to Xan, wondering whether she could let go of the twigs and earth now, and was relieved when he dropped it onto the ground. She brushed dirt from her gloves and examined the entrance that had opened. “So, I thought you couldn’t do any magic.”

  He didn’t meet her eyes. “Oh, that wasn’t really my magic—it was just opening a door to the otherworld. There are plenty of them around. You just have to know where to look.”

  He turned toward the leafy tunnel. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Donna caught a glimpse of how pale he suddenly looked. How could she blame him? After all he’d lost at the hands of the elves, he was willing to walk back into their territory. For her. She herself was fighting down a feeling of cold dread, trying not to think about the nightmarish creature that had caused her own injuries. The Wood Monster, as it had become known in her dreams. The Skriker.

  Xan grabbed her hand again, pulling her forward, and they stepped onto the secret pathway—the Old Path. As Donna placed her foot on the bed of pine needles, it almost felt as though she’d walked through a physical membrane—invisible, but very definitely there. Her ears popped as they pushed their way through and started down the tunnel of arching branches. She became aware of a whispering sound that seemed to come from all around.

  Swallowing, Donna ignored the feeling of being watched that was creeping slowly up her spine. She concentrated instead on putting one foot in front of the other. All I need to think about is Navin, she told herself firmly. That’s why I’m here. Guilt rose inside her, a physical sensation in her chest that made it hard to breathe: they had only taken her friend because of her. Of that she was certain.

  Now she just had to find out why.

  It was like walking down a shadowy hallway. Donna gripped Xan’s hand as tightly as she dared, stepping over dead leaves through the Elflands alongside a half-human guy she’d met only a few days ago. They were in the last remaining home of the wood elves. It felt horribly real.

  A clearing opened ahead of them, and Donna knew it would be larger than the previous one. Holding her breath, she felt a blade of sunlight touch her as they passed beneath a gap in the canopy overhead. And then it was gone, and they were plunged once more into near darkness as they headed toward the opening ahead. She found herself walking faster now, just so she could step into the wide open space of the cl
earing—anything to escape the oppressive feeling of being closed in by trees.

  As they emerged from the tunnel, Donna fought to control her breathing and took in the familiar creatures ranged around the clearing. They looked more twisted and grotesque than ever under the shifting shadows of the waving branches. She felt Xan give her hand a squeeze and held on for dear life. She didn’t dare look at him.

  This clearing was similar to the one in her dream, but there was no tree stump in the center of it. Instead, there was a carved wooden chair, rough-hewn but strangely beautiful, its ragged edges seeming to be part of something living. It was a throne of sorts, draped with ivy and other vines, with white flowers scattered on the ground around it.

  Sitting on the throne was a human-shaped figure, seemingly carved out of wood. Donna wondered for a moment if she—for clearly it was a “she”—was wearing an elfskin to change her form in some way, but a deep intuition told her that this was the being’s own skin. She seemed more fey, and less twisted and made of earth, than the other wood elves. Donna’s legs trembled as she counted six elves standing in a semicircle around the throne, apparently some kind of guard. They half-crouched, muttering, watching her and Xan through slitted black eyes.

  “Welcome,” said the woman-thing sitting on the throne, in a voice like rustling leaves. “Welcome Donna Underwood, of the iron world.”

  Then the woman laughed, her nut-brown face creasing into cruel lines and her lipless mouth opening wide. Her mossy hair was long and thick, crowned with brambles and white flowers. There was a belt of long grasses around her slender waist, and Donna’s eyes widened as she realized there were hanks of what looked like human hair hanging from it. Elflocks. She swallowed. If the legends were to be believed, these belonged to trapped human souls.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Mom, she thought, trying to get a better look at the belt.

  But the woman-thing was speaking again. “Come here, child. Leave your halfling companion where he is.” Her voice hissed with clear disdain.

  The sound set Donna’s teeth on edge and made her hands and arms throb more than ever. She tried to find the strength to speak. She stepped forward, ignoring Xan’s warning tug on her hand. “How do you know my name?”